


Voices

by ununquadius



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 10:39:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17785826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ununquadius/pseuds/ununquadius
Summary: The voices whispered and he listened. He wanted to obey them, because what they said seemed fair to him. They told him how worthless he was, how unlovable, how stupid — how his death would be a better deal for everyone.





	Voices

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a lot to OTPShipper98 for being a wonderful beta! <3
> 
> Hope you like it!

The voices whispered and he listened. He wanted to obey them, because what they said seemed fair to him. They told him how worthless he was, how unlovable, how stupid — how his death would be a better deal for everyone. 

The voices talked all the time. In his dreams, in the shower, during lessons, when he was with his friends. 

The voices pointed to certain spells and told him how interesting it would be to use them on his skin. To erase the mark that made him a monster. 

He tried to avoid them, to ignore them. But you can't decide when they speak to you in your own mind. 

The voices talked and he listened. 

He sliced the skin of his forearm, hurting the mark. He thought the blood would come out in abundance, but it looked like small tears leaving a red path on his pale skin. 

He looked in fascination at the blood drops. It was amazing how such a small thing could make him so free for a moment! It had silenced the voices. 

He tried again. A longer slice this time. In the head of the snake, beheading it. 

More blood. More freedom. No voices. 

He breathed. He felt lighter, like the pressure inside him that made it impossible to get up in the mornings or to eat had left him at last. 

He tried again. A big inhalation. But this time the pain crawled from his forearm to his insides and the pressure returned with the voices. 

_Stupid_. 

_You think some bleeding is going to make you worthy?_

_You’re a monster_. 

_Nobody cares about you_. 

_And with good reason_. 

_You should die_. 

What would happen if he pointed his wand to his throat and cast the spell? Would he die? The thought of his own blood choking him scared him enough to not try. He wanted a quick death. 

_Coward_. 

The pressure was unbearable. He needed a new slice. New drops of blood making a mess on his robes and on the bathroom floor. 

He sighed. That feeling must be the one people on drugs craved for. 

The voices shouted and he listened. A new slice. He felt the freedom, the silence. 

Only the freedom and the silence were becoming shorter and shorter, then the voices came back screaming about guilt. 

He couldn't stand it anymore. He was to going to end it. 

The voices talked and he listened, and sometimes they were too loud to ignore.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
